Stop & Go
by hammergirl
Summary: PostRENT: “Maureen knew that Roger could do so much better than her and didn’t know why he let her stick around.” We find out the source of Maureen's sadness & Mark enjoys his dinner with Kate. Last updated July 11, 2004.
1. Prologue

**Stop & Go**

**Summary:** When Mimi's health declines, Roger takes it upon himself to nurse her back to health, putting a strain on their relationship. When a beautiful stranger is added into the mix, confusion, fear, and a longing to hold onto the past dominates.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters, they're Jonathan Larson's.

**Author's Note:** This is pretty much the same story as a previous story I started (Without You). I've decided to take a slightly different direction with it, and the way to do that was to start from scratch. Hopefully this one will work better for me. Please review!

* * *

**Prologue**

_January 1, 1997___

_"Tall vanilla bean latté."___

_"Coming up."___

Mark smiled at her response. He loved hearing her voice, even if it was just for the smallest reply. Every time she spoke he tried desperately to remember exactly how she said it, hoping that it might just drown out the sounds of Maureen's shrill voice and Mimi's incessant coughing. He had been hearing a lot of that lately.

_Coming up.___

He swallowed the last gulp of his coffee and pushed himself away from the small café table. Standing up, Mark wound his scarf around his neck again and removed his coat from the back of the chair. He put it on and picked up the ceramic mug from the table before walking over and placing it on top of the granite counter. The young woman bustling around behind it whirled around quickly at the sound and smiled when she saw Mark.

"See you tomorrow," she told him, wiping her hands on her green apron.

"Bye," he managed to force out, grinning stupidly. Smooth…

She waved and laughed, then spun back around to work, her blonde hair being tossed over her shoulder in the process.

Mark wandered to the entrance of the small café and pushed the glass door open, stepping back outside into the cold January weather. He turned left and journeyed along the sidewalk to Collins' apartment. He, Collins and Maureen had been spending a lot of time there lately.

It had been one week since Mimi's near death experience when Maureen and Joanne found her in the park on Christmas Eve, and her health was definitely not looking up. She had taken to bed and rarely left it. She didn't go outside anymore, never feeling physically strong enough to do so. Mimi was fading fast and everybody around her knew it, save for Roger who constantly tried to block those kinds of thoughts from his mind. He and Mimi had moved back into the loft of the top floor rather than remain in Mimi's place, hoping that if Roger was ever out, it would be easier for Mark to watch her. Mark, however, would usually try to escape the building, hoping he wouldn't have to help out with Mimi. He hadn't seen her in a long time and was afraid to see what was happening, though he'd never admit that to anybody.

Every morning, Mark would make his way over to Collins' apartment where he'd meet Collins and Maureen. They'd spend the day together, talking, joking around, and playing video games on the system that Angel had begged Collins to buy her when she was still around. Then in the afternoon if Collins had a class, Mark and Maureen would hang around in his apartment, catching up and telling each other things they hadn't ever told anybody. They found themselves becoming better friends this way. Later in the evening, Collins would come home and the three friends would eat dinner before returning to their respective homes, which in Mark's case meant going back to the loft and locking himself up in his room, watching old footage of his circle of friends. He felt bad for ditching his friend that way, but he could deal with any of that right now.

Mark waited patiently for the traffic light above him to turn green and crossed the street when it did. He shoved his hands in his pockets and mentally prepared himself for the day.


	2. 01 Callous Indifference

**Stop & Go**

**Chapter One** -** Callous Indifference**

January 1, 1997

"Then she crosses her arms and turns all indignant on me, 'You're so immature sometimes. Why do I put up with you?' God, can you even believe her?" Maureen finished, shaking her head at the other two as she waited for a response.

Mark and Collins started blankly at her, bored out of their minds. Maureen had been regaling them with complaints about the latest indecency that Joanne had committed against her for the last half hour as they all sat sprawled out in Collins' apartment, but for Collins and Mark it seemed like much longer.

Maureen kicked her legs over the arm of the easy chair she sat in, while Mark and Collins sat on opposite sides of the couch with their feet up on the large footstool in the middle. She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted.

"Typical. You're always on _her_ side, aren't you? God forbid you side with me for once. I mean, you've only known me for, what, two, three years?"

"Shut up, Maureen," Mark tried, shutting his eyes and hoping that might drown out her voice.

"And you've only known her for, like, one. So in theory you should be on my side."

"In _theory_," Mark started seriously. "You should shut the hell up before I kick your ass." He managed to keep a straight face until about halfway through the sentence when he lost it and started to laugh.

Maureen gasped. "You think this is all just a big joke, don't you?"

"Yeah, Mo, that's exactly it," he replied deadpan.

Collins laughed and shook his head. "I swear you two were brother and sister in another life."

"Maybe," Mark shrugged, rubbing his stomach.

"But brothers and sisters never –"

"Maureen, shut up…" Mark tired, burying his face in his hands.

"I'm just saying!" she shot back. "Good Lord, Mark. Someone boarded the grumpy train this morning," she teased him, tossing a pillow at him. He caught it and hugged it in his arms, plastering a pretend pout on his face.

"I'm telling mom!"

Collins laughed and shook his head.

"You guys hungry? 'Cause I am."

Mark and Maureen glanced at each other before nodding and turning back to Collins, who stood up and stretched his arms over his head.

"Alright," he replied. "I'll pop the pizza in the oven and grab some drinks, sound good?"

"Yeah," Mark replied, looking down at his hands. Collins disappeared into the kitchen and Mark and Maureen were left alone. She cocked her head at him and studied his face carefully.

"You okay?"

He sighed and glanced down at his watch. "Yeah. Do you think they're back yet?"

She crawled across the large footstool to the couch and curled up against him. "No. Her appointment at the clinic only started a little while ago."

His head rolled back and rested against the back of the couch. "When do you think they'll be back?"

"Not for at least another hour." She patted his chest gently. "Don't worry, she's going to be fine."

Mark shrugged and rested his head against Maureen's. "What if she's not? Remember what happened after April?"

Maureen nodded, finally able to tell how obviously troubled he was by Mimi's sickness. When she and Joanne found her in the park a week ago, she looked like she was barely holding on, like she could slip away at any given moment. Everybody had been on edge for the last little while, even more so than usual for a group of young people barely surviving in New York. Roger was convinced it was the chicken soup and blankets that kept her alive, Collins and Joanne sure that it was their prayers. Maureen didn't know what the hell was keeping her friend alive, but was glad that whatever it was was doing its job.

"Yeah," she replied quietly, feeling hot tears prickling at the back of her eyes. She began fiddling with the ring on her finger and studied the purple stone embedded in the mock-gold piece of jewelry.

"I don't want him to be alone, too," Mark sighed. "After April he was so screwed up. I don't know what he'll do if Mimi goes, too."

"She won't," Maureen reassured him as a matter-of-factly. "She's going to be fine."

"How do you know?" he asked, looking down at her with heavy laden eyes. "What if she –"

"She won't," Maureen cut him off. She didn't want to have to hear that word. "Just trust me."

Mark sighed and nodded, kissing the top of his friend's head. "Famous last words coming from you," he laughed quietly.

She gasped and slapped him lightly in the chest. "Jerk! I can't believe he just said that!" she laughed to Collins who emerged from the kitchen with three glasses and a glass bottle of root beer under his arm.

"I tell you," he laughed, shaking his head. "Brother and sister."

Mark laughed and stood up from his seat, taking two glasses from Collins. He handed one to Maureen and placed the other on the side table beside the couch.

"Well," he started, making his way over to the door. "Since the pizza won't be ready for another little while, I think I'm gonna go grab some coffee."

"To visit your girlfriend?!" Maureen squealed, bounding over to the other side of the couch. Collins laughed and sat down in the chair across from her, placing the root beer and glass on the footstool.

"Your girlfriend, eh?"

Mark rolled his eyes and pulled his jacket off the coat rack. "She's not my girlfriend," he told Maureen before turning his attention to Collins. "She's just a girl that works at this coffee place."

"A girl he wants to do!" Maureen snorted, pouring herself some root beer.

"I do not," he reassured Collins as he wound his striped scarf around his neck. He picked up his camera from the table by the door and shoved his feet into his sneakers.

"Do too," she informed him, taking a sip.

"Do _not_. Do you want me to pick anything up for you, Collins?"

He shook his head and laughed quietly.

"You can get me a vanilla hot chocolate," Maureen smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes at Mark. He scoffed jokingly and left the apartment.

* * *

Mark fiddled with his camera and tapped his foot as he waited in line. The small coffee house was becoming more familiar to him every time he went in. The first time he went in was on a whim. He was out filming and trying to get his mind off of Roger and Mimi. It was the day after she had returned to the loft, and everybody had figured it would be best to give the two some alone time so they could figure everything out. Mark went into the first coffee place he saw, which just so happened to be that one. He was very taken with the server behind the counter, and whenever he returned they'd flirt a little and then he'd leave. He kept telling himself to ask her on a date but found that he could never muster up enough courage to actually do so. But today was different. He was going to do it.

"Hey Mark," Kate smiled as she brushed her wispy, blonde bangs out of her eyes. "What's up?"

"Not much," he smiled, looking down at his camera.

She leaned forward and looked down at the camera, too. "Film anything good today?"

He shrugged. "No, just been hanging out with some friends."

Kate smiled and Mark melted inside. "There's a pretty big line," she whispered, giggling. "I better hurry up. What can I get for you?"

"Just a tea. Oh, and a large vanilla hot chocolate."

"For your friend?" she smiled, punching in some numbers on the cash register.

Mark nodded, blushing slightly.

"That's cute. You're cute."

She turned around quickly, her blonde ponytail flipping over her shoulder and began pulling at random levers and filling Styrofoam cups.

* * *

Roger unlocked the door to the loft and kicked it open with his foot, keeping an arm tightly around Mimi's waist. They just returned from the clinic with some less than good news, but neither of them had mentioned it since they left. They were both too afraid to.

Roger helped Mimi onto the bed and sat down beside her, pulling the blankets up over her.

"Sorry it's so damn cold in here," he frowned, taking off his coat and draping that over her, too. "I'll start a fire and it'll be warmer."

Mimi shrugged carefully, forcing a small smile. "It'll be okay," she told him hoarsely. "I'm fine."

He knew she was lying. He kissed her forehead gently and pushed her hair out of her eyes.

"I'm going to grab something to eat. Do you want anything?"

She shook her head.

"Are you sure? You need to keep up your stamina."

"I'm not hungry," she reassured him. "I think I just want to sleep for a little while."

He nodded, smiling sadly. "I won't be long. I'll come back as soon as I can."

"Hurry," she frowned, blinking back tears, "okay?"

He nodded again, taking a deep breath and patting her hand gently. "Fast as lightning."

He stood up and walked out of the room, turning around when he heard Mimi whisper.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Roger smiled as he watched her turn over under the mass of blankets, quickly falling asleep. Everybody had lent some blankets to the loft knowing that Mimi was so sick. Collins even gave her Angel's old quilt, telling her that their guardian Angel would watch over her.

He opened up the refrigerator in the kitchen and pulled out a tinfoil package of pizza that Collins sent home with Mark when he was afraid that Roger and Mimi weren't eating anything. He mindlessly popped a piece into the microwave and began heating it up. He couldn't stop thinking about Mimi.

Roger could still remember the feeling he had when the doctor told him what was going on.

_"She's not doing well, son," he whispered as he shut the door to the small room where Mimi waited patiently, shivering like she always did. Roger suddenly felt very vulnerable in the neatly carpeted hallway, face to face with the doctor._

_"Frankly, I'd be surprised if she lived through the next couple months."_

_Roger stared numbly back at him, nodding stupidly. He wished he could respond with something better. Maybe, 'Is there anything we can do?' or 'Do you even know how to feel?' but found himself unable, stunned at the doctor's callous indifference to Mimi's condition._

_"Do you understand, son?" He kept calling Roger 'son,' but he looked barely older than him, maybe only thirty._

_"Your friend is very sick and she's not going to live. Do you understand?"_

Of course he understood. Mimi wasn't going to be around for much longer. She was a goner.

Roger backed up against the counter and slid down to the ground, pulling his knees up to his chest. He couldn't take it anymore.

He heard the microwave beep, signifying that it was finished heating up his dinner, but he felt much less hungry. He stared down at his hands and rubbed two of his calloused fingers together, the fingers he once used to strum songs for Mimi on his Fender. He might never play another song for her again.

Roger felt his eyes well up with tears and instead of blinking them back or drying them, he let them fall. He dropped his head in the dark loft and rocked back and forth, crying silently and losing track of all time.

* * *

Review!


	3. 02 Solemn Word

Author's Note: Thanks for the great reviews! Also, the awesome Mari (**emotionalstatic**) writes Unbreakable. Go read it _**&**_ more of her work, it's all great. 

**Stop & Go**

**Chapter Two – Solemn Word**

_January 1, 1997___

Roger made his way back into his and Mimi's bedroom, carrying a glass of orange juice and a sandwich. As the only ones with real money, Collins and Joanne took it upon themselves to grocery shop for the loft, making sure they had more than enough food to feed them all, especially Mimi. He gently pushed the door open with his foot and smiled when he saw Mimi curled up under the covers, peeking over the edge of the blankets.

"Hey," he greeted her, setting the plate down on the bed. Mimi started to move over to make more room for Roger, but he shook his head. "No-no-no! Stay there. You look comfortable."

Mimi smiled weakly. "I am." She shivered slightly and tried to repress the familiar feelings of needing to cough. Roger sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding the glass of juice out in front of her. She wrinkled her nose, shook her head, and rested it against Roger's shoulder. "No."

"Are you sure? You could probably use it."

Mimi shook her head carefully and snuggled up against Roger. "I'm okay for now."

Roger reached across the bed and picked up the plate with the sandwich on it, offering it to her. "Hungry?"

"No," Mimi laughed. "Don't worry."

Roger carefully tucked the blankets around Mimi and felt her forehead. "Are you cold? Hot?"

Mimi placed her hand over Roger's and gently moved it away from her. "No, I told you," she laughed. "I'm fine. I'm just tired."

"You should go to sleep then," he murmured, stroking the side of her head gently.

"I was on my way before you barged in here," she teased. Mimi reached up and took Roger's hand in hers, kissing it. "Are you okay?"

He nodded slowly and smiled sadly. "Kind of. I just…" he trailed off, his gaze sliding away from Mimi for a brief moment before skidding back to her.

"I know," she whispered. "Me too."

"Are you scared?"

"Um," she started carefully. In a way she wasn't, but she knew Roger wouldn't like that answer. "Yeah, but hasn't really hit me yet. You?"

"Horrified," he replied. "I don't want you to go."

She sighed and looked down, preoccupying herself with staring at the stitching at the hem of Roger's t-shirt. "Let's not talk about that right now. Forget it, I'm not going anywhere."

He nodded sadly and looked down. "I love you Mimi."

"Love you too," she whispered, shutting her eyes.

He held her for a long time until she fell asleep, trying to keep his mind off the future and what they were promised. He studied her angelic face as she slept. How could anything this horrible happen to someone that innocent? Mimi had never done anything wrong and she was being subjected to such a horrible fate. So was he, come to think of it. He couldn't imagine life without Mimi. Life before was so bleak and uncertain. With Mimi, though, everything seemed so much clearer. He felt like he finally knew who he was and what he wanted. She brought out the best in him, and when they weren't fighting, their relationship seemed so perfect.

Roger sighed and reluctantly detached himself from Mimi's arms, feeling hunger pains. Understandable, since he had barely eaten any real food in a week. He was too preoccupied with keeping Mimi happy and healthy, which was getting more difficult every day.

He crept out of their bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. He took long strides into the kitchen, hopping over the creaks in the floorboard. He still knew where they were after all that time. When he was into drugs, he learned where they were and to dodge them so he wouldn't wake anybody up on his way in or out.

Pulling the stone cold pizza out of the microwave then putting it back in for a few more seconds, Roger shivered and tried to rub some warmth into his arms. The loft was freezing. Little had been done to improve it over the last little while, and nobody really had the motive to anyway.

He took his slice of pizza out of the microwave and took a bite out of it as he walked over to the old, battered couch. He looked up when he heard the lock unhinge and the door squeak open. Mark.

"Anyone home?" he called quietly, taking off his boots and coat.

"Hey," Roger replied from the living room.

Mark smiled weakly and tossed his coat aside. "How are you?"

He shrugged and took another bite of his pizza. "Been better."

Mark nodded, understanding. He sat down beside his friend and crossed his arms, asking cautiously, "How's Mimi?"

Roger felt tears welling up in his eyes again, but blinked them back furiously. He was too proud to cry in front of anybody else.

"She's really sick, Mark."

He nodded again and looked down at his feet.

"She's gonna die."

"What?"

Roger sighed shakily and rested his throbbing head in his hands. "She's going to die."

Mark raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure? Is there anything we can all do? I know Collins said he'd help pay for the doctor, and Maureen said Joanne would too, and we could–"

"She's got a month," Roger interrupted his friend, "Before, you know…"

"Yeah," Mark said sadly. It wasn't Mimi that he was sad about, though. He never really had a particular affinity for her. He liked her just fine but never felt really connected to her, like he did with Roger or Maureen. They had always gotten along, but were awkward in each other's company, never really caring to befriend each other.

Roger broke through Mark's thoughts when he came to a revelation. "But maybe you're right. Maybe I could help her get better. I know she can and I bet she wants to."

"Rog," Mark tried. He blurted all that out on the spot, but after rational thought he knew that it would probably be impossible. "The doctor would have told you if there was something you could have done."

"Maybe he just didn't know!" Roger stood up on his shaky legs and began to pace around the small loft. "I could… I could get more food and blankets. And I could get one of those heaters that you just plug into the wall! She could take more AZT and other drugs for whatever she has," he said quickly as these thoughts came to him. He was getting even more excited by the minute and was delirious. "And I could get another job and make more money to help her."

"Rog, you're not thinking clearly. You can't do anything," Mark told him, getting up and grabbing his friend by the shoulders. "Get a hold of yourself. Do you understand what you're talking about?"

Roger pushed Mark away and shook his head. "I'm gonna get her better and…" he inhaled a shallow breath. "And we're gonna be happy. Everything's gonna work out for us, Mark. Trust me."

With that, Roger left the room and disappeared into his and Mimi's bedroom.

Mark sighed and shrugged. He sat back down on the couch and crossed his arms. Roger really worried him sometimes, especially when he thought he could change the world.

* * *

_January 2, 1997___

"The regular?" Kate asked, leaning forward on the counter and smiling flirtatiously at Mark.

He laughed nervously and nodded. "Yeah, please."

She shook her head, laughing, and turned around putting herself to work.

Mark had vowed to himself that today he was going to ask Kate out to dinner. He finally found someone that would stop him from feeling so alone all the time. For the first time in a long time, he felt needed. Kate liked him, even Mark could see it.

"Two thirty-five," Kate told him.

"Huh?" he asked, looking up from his camera.

"Two thirty-five," she repeated. "For the coffee…"

He shook his head and laughed, "Yeah, sorry." He pulled out a crumpled five dollar bill from his pocket and slid it across the counter to her. She smiled at him expectantly and bit her bottom lip as she dug through the register for his change. He dropped the money into his hand and pushed the coffee to him.

"It's all yours."

"Thanks," he smiled, mustering enough courage to ask her out. "Hey, do you ever… drink coffee?" he choked, noticing the smile that spread across her face.

Her face fell and she gave a one-shoulder shrug.

"Well, I'm around it all day long, so…"

He nodded and shut his eyes. "No, what I mean was… Do you want to go out with me sometime?"

The familiar smile jumped back onto Kate's face and she nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Great," he sighed, relieved.

"How about tomorrow night?" she suggested forwardly. "We could get some dinner."

"That sounds good," he replied as he picked up his coffee, blushing.

Obviously enjoying the power she held over him, Kate grinned. "Talk to you tomorrow, then."

He nodded and backed away from the counter. "Yeah, tomorrow."

"Bye Mark."

"Bye."

* * *

Mark knocked on the door to Collins' apartment and waiting patiently until he heard Maureen bounding to the door. She swung it open and stared at Mark with big eyes.

"How's Mimi?"

Mark sighed and entered the apartment, setting his coffee down on the small table near the door.

"She's really sick," he told her, unwinding his scarf from his neck and slipping out of his shoes.

"We know that," she snapped. "Is she going to be okay?"

Collins joined them at the door and wrapped an arm around Maureen's back. "Remember what we talked about?" he asked her.

She nodded and drooped her head. "She's not going to die, though."

Mark took off his coat and held it in his arms. "Yeah she is," he replied quietly. "It doesn't look good."

The group was silent as the processed what Mark told them. Maureen started to sniffle, then turned on her heel and walked back to the couch, crossing her arms and putting her feet up on the footstool.

Mark tossed his coat aside onto a chair and followed her to the couch, Collins not far behind.

"Mo…" he tried, rubbing her arm gently. Collins flopped down into the chair, staring off into space.

"Guys, it'll be okay…"

Maureen shook her head furiously as more tears started to fall. "No it won't!" she screamed. "She's gonna die too and it's not fair!"

"What do you mean?" Collins asked, concerned. He moved forward onto the footstool and tried to grab her hand. She pulled it away and stood up quickly, swiping at her eyes.

"She was a good person and she never hurt anybody!" she shrieked. She walked briskly to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

"I should go and see if she's okay," Mark frowned, standing up. Collins shook his head.

"Let her just digest it for a little while."

Mark nodded slowly and sat back down, forgetting about his coffee for the time being. Both men sat across from each other in silence, trying to understand what was going on.

Collins couldn't believe it. Mimi was nearing her end. The beautiful young woman who swept Roger off his feet in just one night, who made him the happiest he had been in a long time, was going to die. He knew exactly how Roger felt, Angel having done the exact same thing.

He and Angel always had such great dreams. They were going to save up all their money and movie to Santa Fe to open their restaurant. It was going to be a cozy restaurant, and they'd work right in it. They wouldn't hire people they had never met to run it. They'd do it themselves, being an active part of it. They had planned everything out, and Angel was always so excited about their future. He couldn't believe that it had already been two months since she'd died. When they were together, they lost all track of time. Now that she was gone, every dry crawled by and Collins sometimes wondered himself how he handled it.

Collins snapped out of his reverie and noted the time. They had been sitting there contemplating for quite a while.

"Um, I've got to go to school," he said sadly.

Mark nodded and watched Collins stand up and pull his coat off the coat rack.

"Take care of Maureen and order some dinner. I don't know if I'll be home."

He nodded again as Collins bundled himself up and left the apartment. Mark sighed and stood up, walking over to the washroom. He knocked gently on the door.

"Mo? Can I come in?"

"I guess," she moaned from the other side of the door. Mark opened it up and slid in, finding Maureen huddled in a corner of the washroom, her knees pulled up to her chest. He sat down beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and sobbed into his chest, gripping handfuls of his shirt.

He consoled her, stroking the back of her head and rocking her back and forth until they heard the phone ring.

"I should get that," Mark noted. "Might be important."

Maureen nodded, and the two stood up and walked into the kitchen. Maureen sat down at the kitchen table and Mark picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

_"Mark, it's me."_

"Hey Rog, what's up?" he asked, noting the frazzled tone in his friend's voice.

_"Look, I've got a shift at the bar and I don't want to leave Mimi alone. Could you come home?"_

Mark sighed and looked over at Maureen, who had her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she continued to cry. Mark hadn't realized that she and Mimi were so close.

"Yeah, I guess. Can Maureen come too?"

_"Whatever. Thanks."_

"No problem. Bye." Mark hung up the phone and placed a hand on the small of Maureen's back, crouching down beside her.

"Do you want to come to the loft with me? Roger needs us to watch Mimi while he's at work."

She shrugged helplessly and nodded, wiping away her tears. "I guess."

"Okay." He stood back up and went into the small hallway, picking up their coats from the coat rack. She appeared in the doorway and Mark helped her into hers. They put on their shoes and left the apartment, making sure the door was locked behind them.

As they walked down the street, Mark glanced into the coffee shop as they passed. He smiled when he saw Kate inside, trying to please the customers crowded into the small building and forgot about everything else for a brief moment, until he heard Maureen sniffle beside him.

"Don't do that," he pleaded with her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. "It'll be alright."

"No it won't," she sobbed. "It won't. Mimi's going to die and it's my fault."

"What?" Mark asked, dumbfounded. "It's not your fault."

She stopped walking and slumped over, yanking her hands out of the pockets of her red wool coat and swiping at her eyes again.

"If I found her earlier she might be okay."

"What? No!" he reassured her, standing in front of her and brushing her hair out of her eyes. "No, Maureen. There's no way you could have stopped this. She was out there for a really long time. If you found her fifteen minutes before, she's still be sick."

"How do you know?" she asked, dropping her hands to her side, searching Mark for an answer. "God, it's entirely my fault again! I can't do anything right."

He placed a hand on her cheek and shook his head. "It's not your fault!" he told her, wiping away the new set of tears with his thumb. "It's not." He pulled her in for a tight hug and rubbed her back gently. "It's not."


	4. 03 Bittersweet Symphony

**Chapter Three – Bittersweet Symphony**

_January 3, 1997___

"Room service," Roger called in a horribly put-on French accent, pushing the door to his bedroom open as he juggled a bowl of chicken soup and a cup of tea. Both he and Mimi had

Mimi looked up from one of Mark's photo albums and smiled weakly when she saw Roger. "Hey baby."

He smiled back and sat down at the foot of the bed, placing both objects on the ground at his feet. "Morning. How you feeling?

"Like shit," she replied meekly, turning one of the pages in the photo album. She examined the pictures carefully, smiling at the memories of happier times. Mimi traced her finger over a photo of Collins, Benny, Mark and Roger from what must have been almost two years ago. They looked younger, more hopeful. Even though it had only been a couple years, they had all matured and definitely experienced more. Roger, though, looked sicker, paler, thinner. Like she did right now.

"Did you take your AZT?" he asked, rubbing her lower leg which was buried under a large pile of blankets.

Mimi nodded slowly and swallowed hard, recognizing herself all too well in that photograph.

"You sure? Don't lie to me because I'll find out," Roger laughed. "Trust me. I have connections."

She nodded again and looked up at him, studying the way he looked now. Unfortunately, though, she knew that she'd never look any better. Roger could bounce back, but Mimi wasn't strong enough.

"I swear," she managed to reply.

"Good. I brought you some soup. Yum yum yum," he grinned.

"You're so weird," she giggled quietly.

He shrugged and shook his head. "I just want you to feel better. I brought you some tea, too." He lifted the soup off the ground and held it out in front of her. He picked the spoon up out of it and scooped up some broth, holding it up in front of Mimi's face. She grimaced and turned her head away.

"I can feed myself."

"I know, I was just…"

She sighed loudly and shut her eyes. "Just what, Rog?"

"I just want you to get better," he told her quietly as his eyes drifted down into the soup bowl, which he moved away from Mimi.

She frowned and shook her head. "You know I won't."

"But maybe if we—"

"Roger," she said sternly. "You know it's not gonna work that way."

He shrugged and his eyes continued to drift elsewhere. He didn't understand how nonchalant Mimi was about this. It was like she didn't care she was going to die. She was so comfortable with the news. Why was it she could deal with it, but Roger couldn't?

"I don't want to die," she continued quietly. "I love you and I don't want to leave you. But can't we just… spend this time together instead of having you treat me like a four year old? Please, Roger…"

He nodded slowly.

"Don't be my mom. Be my boyfriend."

Roger sat meekly on the edge of the bed, feeling about six inches tall. Mimi had called him a lot of things during their relationship, but this was the first time she had ever called him her mother. He just wanted Mimi to be well.

He slid back onto the bed and sat beside Mimi, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "What are you looking at?"

"Mark's photos. You should get so close to me. You can't get sick."

"I won't," he reassured her. "_Mom_."

Mimi laughed and snuggled in closer to him, covering her mouth with her hand. "They're old pictures. I barely recognize you."

"Yeah, they are," he commented, examining the pictures. He turned the page slowly and frowned at the depressing memories. They were all taken at a dark time in his life.

"That's cute," Mimi laughed, pointing to a picture of Mark and Maureen on the Staten Island Ferry. Maureen had somehow acquired a foam Statue of Liberty foam hat and was trying to feed Mark some popcorn from across the deck. Collins watched on, wearing a matching Statue of Liberty hat and a scowl.

Suddenly, Mimi explosively sneezed, whirling away from Roger. He quickly tucked the blankets tighter around her and kissed the side of her head.

"Are you cold?" he asked, frazzled. Mimi batted him away and frowned.

"_No_, mother," she teased him. "I'm fine."

* * *

"Honeybear," Joanne tried, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside Maureen. "Please, you have to stop."

Maureen sobbed into her eider down pillow, unable to answer. She buried her face further into it and moaned loudly.

Joanne tucked Maureen's now damp hair behind her ear and kissed the back of her head. "Please, baby. I'm sad about Mimi too, but you can't stop the world because of it."

This prompted her to cry harder and she covered the sides of her face with her hands, completely unable to answer her girlfriend.

Joanne sighed sadly and stood up from the bed, checking herself in the full length mirror beside the bed before picking up her black pumps from the ground. The evening before, Mark had called Joanne at work. He told her all about Mimi, continuing on with telling her that Maureen had what seemed like a nervous breakdown when she heard the news. She had refused to talk to anybody about Mimi and had stayed balled up on the couch crying for the entire afternoon. Having made a brief attempt to visit Mimi in her bedroom, Maureen found she couldn't stay for too long before breaking down and crying again. Mimi was taking the news better than she was.

When Mark had called her, Joanne rushed over to the loft and picked Maureen up. She unsuccessfully tried to take her out to dinner and offered to take her shopping, but finally gave in and took her back to their apartment on Fifth Avenue. Joanne continued to order Maureen's favourite takeout meals and let her watch whatever she wanted on television for the entire night, but Maureen refused it all, retiring to bed early and crying herself to sleep. She woke up the next morning, and picked up where she left off and waking Joanne up with her sobs. She refused to answer Joanne when she asked her about Mimi and had barely said anything for the entire evening, save for 'it's all my fault'. Joanne was starting to get worried.

"I'm going to go into work now, Honeybear," she told Maureen as she slipped her shoes onto her feet. "I have to go in, but I'll try and come home at lunch time, okay?"

Maureen sobbed.

She tried with all her might to ignore her cries for a moment until she could get out of the room. She didn't want to leave Maureen, but she knew she had to. There was some very important work to get through at work, but once she was finished with it Joanne would dedicate her time to finding out what was wrong with Maureen.

"I love you, Honeybear. Try and have something to eat today."

She gave her girlfriend a final sympathetic smile and turned around, leaving the room and closing the door behind her. Maureen waited until she heard the front door shut before sitting up. She grabbed her pillow and clutched it tightly in her lap, as if she was transferring all her energy to it. Suddenly and without warning, she threw it harshly at the shut door, screaming as it flew across the room. She collapsed into a heap at the foot of the bed, sobbing into the blankets.

This was entirely her fault.

Last week on Christmas Eve at about nine o'clock in the evening, she and Joanne were sitting in the living room. Joanne had made them hot chocolate and they were settling in to watch _A Christmas Story_ on television. They got into a stupid, random argument about nothing in particular (as per usual). Maureen grabbed her coat and boots and stormed out of the apartment, Joanne trailing soon after her. She hailed a cab and was planning on making her way over to the loft, but Joanne got into the taxi with her. After a very long and boisterous argument and reassurement from the cabbie that they would be banned from the New York City taxi service from now on, the two women got out at Tompkins Square Park. They wandered through the nearly empty and very cold park slowly, talking things through and trying to figure out whether their relationship could withstand what it had been going through. Joanne claimed that she needed some sort of 'sign' to convince her, and then, almost as if on cue, they found Mimi curled up on a park bench with little more than the clothes on her back.

They struggled to bring the delirious Mimi back to the loft and felt like they had been torn to shreds as Roger sang the song he had been waiting for for his entire life. That night, Roger looked at Maureen differently; she noticed it. It was the look that was always in his eyes when he talked about April. Not necessarily love, but a kind of devotion that he hadn't expressed towards her for a long time.

There had been a kind of animosity between the two of them for the past year, ever since April died and Maureen left Mark. They had been really good friends before any of that happened. In fact, he was the one who introduced her to Mark in the first place. They had been inseparable for a very long time, neither actually falling for each other, just staying good friends. When she started to date Mark and he started to date April, their friendship began to wane. She hated April and never hesitated to let everybody know it. Maureen knew that Roger could do so much better than her and didn't know why he let her stick around. That is, until she found out about their addiction.

When she and Mark had returned home from a busy day out and about the city, they were met with a particularly angry and depressed Roger. April was dead; she killed herself, and even though Roger kept telling the others that it was all his fault, Maureen knew very well it was hers. After all, _she_ was the one who was constantly calling her names and telling her how worthless she was. After that, she managed to drive herself away from Mark, too, never really getting over the guilt she felt for April's death. Now Roger was going to go through the same thing again all because of Maureen.

She knew damn well that Mimi's death was going to be on her head. If she had been less than completely self-absorbed for once, this would never have happened. She was stuck in the exact same situation as she was almost two years ago. Maureen had never really gotten over April's death, and the news about Mimi sparked these guilty feelings again. She didn't know what to do, but she knew she needed to apologize to Roger and clear her mind.

* * *

Mark took a small, nervous sip of his water and glancing up across the table at Kate. Her normally pulled back blonde hair was curled and surrounded her face, falling down her back. She was wearing more makeup than usual, but still looked beautiful. She wore a short dark purple dress, but kept her black pea jacket on, because she never really became accustomed to the heating inside the restaurant. Her brown eyes glimmered in the candlelight and Mark studied her face closely as she spoke.

"…and high school kind of sucked because I wasn't really into it. But when you have two really smart siblings, you have to try to be. I was really into the cross-country running team and the drama club, though. Oh, and get this, I actually founded the film club!" she laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Really?" Mark asked. "I would have killed to have a film club at my high school! The closest I got was the A/V club."

She laughed again. "A/V? Me too!" she admitted. "Oh God, I can't believe I just told you that. Now I might have to kill you," she joked.

Mark made a face and laughed, "So, then what after high school?"

"I went to Carleton University, which is in Ottawa, too. I didn't really want to go, but when your mom works on Parliament Hill for the Canadian Government and your brother is the smartest man ever, it's kind of expected." She tapped the ashes off the end of her cigarette and into the ashtray below. "So… after four years of mostly partying and beer-chugging contests, I managed to graduate with a B.A. in Political Science. But I still didn't feel like I fit in. I dunno," she shrugged. "Maybe I'm just weird."

He shook his head. "No," he reassured her, "I'm the same way. I dropped out of Brown University halfway through my second year because I didn't know what I wanted to do, either. There was a lot of pressure to do it all from my family, but I finally gave in and moved out on my own."

"Yeah," she agreed, nodding. "I know what you mean. I was eventually just like, 'screw you, Ottawa!' and I moved to New York."

He laughed and picked up his fork, pushing the remains of his cheesecake around. "Why New York? Did you want to become a big actress?"

"Hah, yeah right," she shook her head. "I couldn't act my way out of a wet paper bag. The only reason I was in the drama club was for something to do so I could get out of piano lessons and stuff like that."

Mark nodded, laughing. "I got sucked into those as a kid. I know exactly how you feel."

She nodded too, understanding. "So anyway, New York… Um, I moved here with my then best friend, Lauren, and we got a shitty little apartment in Brooklyn. She eventually ditched me for some guy named Kevyn and his guitar, so that left me with a waitressing job at a Vietnamese restaurant and an apartment I couldn't afford. I eventually moved down into an even tinier apartment in Greenwich Village and got another job at the coffee house where I work now."

"So you're busy."

She sighed and smiled. "Yeah, but it's all good. I get it all done and I'm getting by alright, so…"

"Yeah."

She smiled and cocked her head at Mark, then darted her eyes over to the cheque on the table. She grabbed her purse off the ground and pulled out her wallet.

"Want to get going?"

He shrugged. "Uh, I guess. Please," he tried, placing his hand over the cheque. "Let me."

She shook her head and slipped it out from underneath his hand. "I mean, you could come to my place if you want. We could hang out there."

"Oh, uh, sure," Mark agreed nervously. Kate left just enough money for the dinner so they wouldn't have to wait for change, so they stood up and Mark put his coat and scarf on. They waded through the tables to the front of the restaurant, and feeling brave and empowered, Mark reached over and held Kate's hand. She glanced over at him quickly and smiled, shuffling closer to him as they walked away from the restaurant and to her apartment.

He hadn't even thought about Roger or Mimi for the entire night.

* * *

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